A New Start
by rogue-scholar07
Summary: Darcy never told her foster mother anything about her parents. Seventeen years after his abrupt disappearance, her father is suddenly a part of her life again. You can't pick back up where you left off with so much time passed...but maybe you can start over again? And learn some handy ancient spells in the process, of course.


**A/N:** I seem to really love this slight AU-verse, so here's another oneshot. Set after "Perchance to Dream". As usual, I do not own the characters or locations used in this work of fanfiction. If I did, Season 5 would have played out much differently.

**A New Start**

Darcy hadn't known who the man was when Icy first freed him from his frozen prison and attempted to sacrifice him to the ice-snakes so they could escape the Omega Dimension. There hadn't exactly been time to look at name plates when they were running for their unworthy lives. Even without knowing his name, though, seeing him unfrozen and hearing him speak sent a spark of recognition into her brain. She had seen him before, had known him and idolized him in the distant past, but could not for the life of her recall his name.

When Icy called him Valtor, it took every last ounce of composure she possessed not to stare at him with her mouth wide open.

Every young child raised by the coven or their sympathizers knew about him. He was the best wizard in his day, master of the Dark Dragon's Flame, and faithful servant of the Ancestral Witches. Class and knowledge personified, as her adopted mother always told her and the other girls. He had been punished for his part in the supposed deaths of King Oritel and Queen Miriam of Domino, sentenced to an eternity frozen in Omega.

He also happened to be her father.

She'd never brought it up to the woman who raised her. After Griffin walked out on the two of them and joined the Company of Light, Darcy had one last visit with her father before being sent to live with another of the Coven's followers. She knew he was an important man, but her three-year-old brain hadn't quite been able to comprehend just how important he'd been. After seventeen years, she'd had plenty time to do some recreational research on him. She might have been too young to understand it back then, but things were different now. She knew who he was and what he was capable of; the demonstration of power on Andros had been mostly for the benefit of her sister witches. She'd paid more attention in Magical History than they did and knew what he could do, given the proper opportunity and motive.

She was also keenly aware that they would need to actually sit down and talk with each other without arousing suspicion from Icy and Stormy. They didn't know who her real parents were; just that she'd been dumped into the Coven foster care system like they had. Icy might not care about it, but Stormy would make her life a living hell if the truth about her origins came to light. She'd never much liked Griffin, and the opportunity to tease Darcy about being related to the old bat (Stormy's words, not hers) would be too good for the younger witch to pass up.

But if she couldn't tell them the truth, how was she going to manage some one-on-one time with him?

"I'm going to study some of the scrolls and tomes we acquired from the libraries on Andros." He said, walking through the common area of their new lair as he made his way to the study. She immediately perked up. A plan was forming in her mind now; she just hoped he'd play along with it.

"You know, it's been _ages_ since I've had the chance to look over spells that old." She stood up and approached him, using a more sultry tone of voice than normal in order to gain his attention. It worked; he stared at her in abject confusion until she continued talking. "I'd love to help you sort through them. That is, if you don't mind." '_Please, don't wig out on me now_.' She thought as she gazed into his eyes. It felt about thirty shades of wrong to be flirting with her father like this, but there really wasn't another good way to go about this.

He blinked once, studying her with that piercing golden gaze of his. Was this how unnerving other people felt when she scrutinized them? Creepy… "I have no objections." He finally stated. "You may help if you wish."

She smiled, latching onto his arm and walking with just a _little_ extra sway of her hips as they left for the study. He might have still felt confused, but her sisters were buying the whole routine hook, line, and sinker. Once they were safely ensconced in the study room, he erected a noise-blocking spell and shut the door.

"I'm not sure you're aware of who I am, but…" He began talking, but she cut him off.

"Oh, I know exactly who you are, Valtor. Or should I call you father instead?" She raised an eyebrow at him. He frowned in response, folding his arms across his chest.

"Then why the act?" He asked.

"I said that_ I_ know who you are. My sister witches are hopelessly in the dark, and I'd rather like to keep it that way." She scoffed.

"You never told you foster mother who you really were, did you?" He sounded much more amused with that thought than she felt he had a right to be.

"What was the point? Griffin ran out on us; you got locked in Omega for eternity. I never thought I'd see you again, so what was the point in saying anything?" There was a slight hint of accusation in her words, but she couldn't quite keep that out. She'd spent a lot of the time since he'd been gone thinking that he'd run out on her like her mother had. Even though she knew the truth now, feelings like that simply didn't vanish in an instant.

"A very intelligent move on your part, my dear." He smiled approvingly at her. "I would rather not imagine what your new caretaker might have done had she known." She could fill in the vague reference perfectly fine on her own. What was left of the old Coven had been looking for something, **anything** that could have been used to gain back their power. If her foster mother had known she was Valtor's daughter, she would have been sent away from all the other children and trained in isolation. Although sometimes she wondered if that might have been a good idea…especially during some of Stormy's more violent temper tantrums.

"Like I said, it's our little secret for now." She frowned. "And I certainly hope you **do** have some archaic spells and rituals to teach me, otherwise they'll think we're not getting anything accomplished in here."

"I don't know…" He pursed his lips playfully, "some of those old spells are rather elaborate and tricky to master. I suspect this will take more than one lesson."

"You think I can't keep up the annoying flirt act for more than two minutes?" she narrowed her eyes, feeling distinctly offended in his lack of faith in her abilities. "Please. I can keep it going for as long as you're willing to play into the illusion."

She noted the spark of pride that suddenly appeared in his eyes. "You've become quite the actress, haven't you? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised…having to hide your identity will either make or break you." The pride shifted to a deep-seated guilt. "I wish I had been there to train you, Darcy. To teach you all I know about ancient rites and talking your way into high-security buildings…"

"You were frozen solid and dumped in a giant deep-freezer." She remarked bluntly. "It's not like you ever _wanted_ to be gone for seventeen years."

"No, I most certainly did not." He frowned. "Tell me, have you heard anything about your mother?"

A devious smile lit up her face. "Even better, I learned from her for four years. She's the headmistress of Cloud Tower Academy of Witchcraft now." She did so enjoy seeing his eyes go wide like that. He clearly hadn't been expecting that kind of information.

"Elphie? A headmaster?" He breathed, a look of stunned disbelief on his face. "I never thought she would climb that far up in the Wiccan social strata."

"Oh, she's pretty high up there, apparently." Darcy shrugged. "And mean. She kicked the three of us out of school during Senior year for unleashing a nightmare demon on Alfea…and stealing the Dragon's Flame from a freshman fairy, but mostly the demon thing."

"Because I'm sure your intentions for the Dragon's Flame were high and honorable." He taunted playfully.

"Oh, Shadowhaunt, no. We used it to summon the Army of Decay and attempted to take over all of Magix." She scoffed. "It would have worked if Icy hadn't gotten cocky and overlooked the fact that the Dragon's Flame can never be _completely_ drained from its vessel. The fairy re-connected with her powers, the three big schools joined forces, and we got our asses handed to us."

Ah, the spark of pride was back again. "Ah, so high but deranged. You would have made the coven proud."

"Even with the butt-kicking?" She raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Even with it, yes. Summoning the Army of Decay is no small feat. You should be proud that you managed to do it at all." A pleased smile crossed his lips. "The nightmare demon, on the other hand…"

"Utmost stupidity, yes, I'm well aware of that." She folded her arms across her chest. "We were over-eager to cause mayhem and it bit us big time when the plan went south. If the thing hadn't materialized in real life and wrecked part of the school, we might have just gotten suspended for it rather than expelled."

"As long as you learned something from it." He remarked with a non-committal shrug of the shoulders.

"I think I've learned enough in the last two years to write a best-selling memoir." She snorted.

"After we gain control of the magical dimension, perhaps you should?" She rolled her eyes at the suggestion. As if she was going to have time for that!

"Whatever. Were we actually going to go over any of those ancient spell books, or did you intend to talk all afternoon?"

A pleased smirk crossed his lips. "Since you're so anxious to get started, I'll let you take those tomes." He gestured to a stack of four books, each at least two inches thick. The only one with writing down the spine was written in an archaic form of High Domithrian, an old language that started on Domino and spread out to Zenith and Solaria. It was only used in certain spell books and legal documents anymore, having fallen out of favor as Sol Standard became more popular. "Find the most effective and useful spells, charms, and potions in those books. Translate as much as you can into Sol Standard so your 'sisters' can use them as well."

Darcy groaned. While she was proficient enough with High Domithrian to read and translate it, the early forms of syntax were still a pain in the ass to translate into Sol Standard. "You just want someone else to translate the dead language books." She accused, lowering herself into one of the wooden office chairs with practiced grace.

"Would you rather take the Vishnian scrolls?" He asked, earning a grimace from the violet-clad witch. In the world of dead languages, High Domithrian was a fresh corpse compared to Vishnian. Nobody had written anything important in _that_ language (once the native dialect on Isis's southern continent that had spread as far as Callisto and Eraklyon in its hay-day) in several millennia. She hadn't ever bothered learning to read Vishnian texts; it wasn't a required language for her degree plan and none of the spells she had any use for were written in that language.

"Where the hell did you even _find_ Vishnian scrolls?" She grumbled, pulling the top book off of her stack and setting it on the desk in front of her. While the Androsian libraries they'd raided certainly contained some old books and scrolls, she hadn't seen anything that old. "Most _museums_ don't have any works written in Vishnian." Dragon, she hoped he didn't steal the scrolls from a museum. She didn't mind raiding palace libraries since half the books in those rooms were collecting dust anyway, but taking stuff from museums bugged her. The only reason she knew what Vishnian writing looked like was a field trip to the Museum of Anthropology in Magix City during her junior year at Cloud Tower; she'd hate to deprive another knowledge-hungry witch the chance to see writing that old and beautiful in person.

"Just focus on your reading, Darcy." That smug bastard was enjoying every second of this, and she knew it.

Yep, he probably stole the scrolls. From a museum. Asshole.


End file.
